On Borrowed Time
by yellowrose
Summary: Sam makes the ultimate sacrifice AU
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the basic story of "The Lord of the Ring." Those are the creation of JRR Tolkien.  
  
Author's Note: I submitted this story once, but took it off because I was still trying to figure out the system and it really wasn't ready! This is my first attempt at fan fiction period, so I'm definitely on a learning curve. Hope it comes across OK! Thanks!  
  
*******************************************************************************  
Chapter 1 Moria  
Sam was exhausted. He wasn't used to fighting, especially vicious orcs, with a sword, in a mine. The scene was chaotic. Everywhere Sam looked, he could see his companions fighting for their lives – Boromir and Aragon were plowing through the hordes of screeching orcs, sending their victims careening out of their way. Legolas dispatched one orc after another with his deadly bow. Gimli was roaring with delight as he hacked yet another orc into pieces. Even the other hobbits had joined the fray, slashing at the orcs with their short swords. No one in the Shire would ever believe that Merry and Pippen could be so lethal.  
  
Sam looked around for his master, Frodo. He had tried to keep track of him amidst the chaos, but it was almost impossible. Figures kept dancing back and forth in front of him as he tried to look around the chamber. Suddenly, he heard Frodo's desperate cry of "Aragorn!" Sam could see the huge cave troll thrusting at something in the corner. It must be Frodo! Frantically, Sam tried to make his way over to Frodo. He must save his master! However, he had only gone a few steps when he felt himself knocked to the floor. It was as if someone had hit him in the chest with a hammer. With great alarm, he looked down to see the black shaft of an orc's arrow quivering in his breast! He looked back over towards the cave troll and saw the huge beast bearing down on his beloved Frodo with a spear. Unthinking, Sam grabbed the shaft of the arrow and yanked it as hard as he could. The pain was more than he would have believed possible. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as waves of nausea washed over him. He stared at the arrow in his hand, dripping his own blood. He closed his eyes and thrust it away.  
  
Rolling over he pushed himself up onto his knees. He was panting heavily. He could feel the blood pulsing through the burning wound and running down his chest. He grabbed his cloak and ripped a piece off, balled it up and thrust it under his shirt, against the wound. "C'mon Sam," he gasped as he struggled to his feet, "No time for lyin' about! Mister Frodo needs you!" But, it appeared he was too late. Frodo lay face down on the floor of the cave. Aragorn and Gandalf were staring at him in shocked disbelief. Legolas, Merry and Pippin were attacking the cave troll. Sam barely heard the creature's cries of pain and anger as Legolas finished it off with an arrow in its mouth. All Sam could see was his master's lifeless body. He had failed him. Sam had promised to protect Frodo at all costs, and now, Frodo was dead.   
  
Aragorn crawled over to Frodo's body and gently turned him over. Aragorn pulled back in surprise as Frodo gasped and attempted to sit up. "He's alive!" whispered Sam, "He's alive!" Relief washed over him, his own pain forgotten in his joy. Frodo was still alive. The others gathered around Frodo and stared in amazement at the glistening mithril coat that had saved his life. But they were not out of danger yet.   
  
"There will be more orcs on the heels of these," warned Gandalf, "We must make our way to the bridge of Khazad-dum!"  
  
Sam remembered little of the flight through the dark caverns of Moria. He ran after Frodo and the others without thinking. He could feel the blood continue to soak through his shirt. The small compress had done little to stem the flow. However, his fear kept him going. There simply was no time to worry about his injury. They must get out of the black caves of Moria! He recalled running through the labyrinth of mine passageways, navigating innumerable flights of stairs, the seemingly endless numbers of screaming orcs, and finally, the Balrog. Sam stood next to Merry and Pippin at the far end of the Bridge of Khazad-dum, watching in terror as Gandalf fought the fiery demon, and then falling to his death. Sam could hear Frodo crying out Gandalf's name as Boromir restrained him and then dragged him through the passageway to the mine's exit. Gimli pulled on Merry's arm crying, "Come, we must go!" Pippin and Sam followed close behind, dodging the barrage of arrows orcs were releasing at them across the chasm. The last to leave was Aragorn, his craggy face etched in disbelief. How could Gandalf be dead?  
  
Outside the mines, the hobbits collapsed in grief. Gandalf had been like a kindly grandfather to them. They all had firmly believed that as long as the old wizard was with them, all would be right in the end. But now he was gone. How could they go on? Sam stumbled over to a rock and sat heavily upon it. The pain from his wound seemed to multiply many times over as the adrenalin dissipated. He began to feel light headed and the nausea was returning. He knew he should say something to Aragorn, but the Ranger was peering across the barren, rock-strewn hillside and urging the others to get up. Orcs would be there by nightfall and they must be away while there was still time. They must get to Lothlorien where the elves would surely help them.   
  
"Come on, Sam." urged Aragorn, "On your feet." Sam sighed. He pulled his cloak closer around him and stood. He felt the world start to spin and his knees shake. "You're fine, Samwise Gamgee!" he scolded himself. "You've got to make up yer mind that all is well. A little scratch won't stop you!" He just wished the wound would stop bleeding. He had torn a piece off his shirt this time and when no one was looking, pushed it under his shirt, pressing it against the wound, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain.  
  
"Hurry up, Sam!" called Merry, "Or you'll be left behind!" Sam took a deep breath, wincing as he adjusted his pack and turned to follow the others down the hill. Looking ahead, he could see Frodo, wrapped in a blanket of grief. The other hobbit had been especially close to the grey wizard. Frodo was walking automatically, a look of anguish on his pale features. Sam wished there was something he could do to comfort his friend, but only time would help lessen Frodo's loss.  
  
The way to Lothlorien was long and treacherous. Every step became more and more difficult for Sam. The wound was still bleeding and he was wracked with chills. Sam realized this was bad, but there just didn't seem to be a good time to bring it up. The other members of the fellowship were deep in their own thoughts. Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn were constantly on the alert for pursuers. They didn't seem to have the time to notice that one hobbit was gradually falling behind. Sam was becoming less aware of his surroundings. He could hear the footsteps and voices of the other hobbits, but they seemed to be getting further and further away.   
"Sam?" Sam blinked and saw that Frodo was standing beside him. "Sam? Are you alright? Why did you stop?" Sam looked around and saw that he had indeed stopped walking and was simply standing the pathway.  
  
"Um, I,.." stammered Sam, "I'm fine, Mister Frodo, just a little tired." Frodo peered at his companion a little more closely in the fading light, and was about to say something when he heard Aragorn call his name.  
  
"Frodo! Is anything the matter?" Sam looked farther up the path at the Ranger who was striding towards them searching about for any sign of danger.  
  
"No. We're fine," replied Frodo, turning from Sam, "Sam just stopped to rest."  
  
Aragorn looked at the two Hobbits before him. "Well Sam, not to worry" smiled Aragorn, "We are making camp just ahead. Follow me." With that, the tall Ranger turned and led the way up to where Gimli and the other hobbits had starting making a small fire.   
  
Sam found a small hollow among the rocks. He eased his heavy pack to the ground, slowly settled himself beside it and closed his eyes. The chills were back and he felt so very tired. He didn't think he could ever move again. The pain kept pulsing in his breast and he could feel the blood slowly trickling downwards. "I really should say somethin' to Mister Frodo or Strider," he thought distantly, "But, I think I'll just rest a bit first." He pulled his cloak closer about him. After that, Sam knew no more. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Frodo stared out across the wilderness. His thoughts kept going back to the bridge in Moria and Gandalf's last moments. He had thought of little else since they had escaped from the mines. He hadn't even noticed Sam falling behind. Sam. Frodo frowned. He felt there was something not quite right about Sam since they had left the mines, but there had been little time to think about it. He looked around and for the first time, noticed Sam was no where near him. Sam was always bustling about, making sure Frodo was cared for, and his absence felt oddly disconcerting. Frodo turned and peered about the campsite searching for his friend. Merry and Pippin were helping Gimli build a fire and prepare the evening meal. Legolas and the two Men continued to scan the perimeter for orcs. Where was Sam? Frodo walked back towards the fire and finally caught sight of Sam sitting in a small hollow, leaning against the rocks out of the circle of light..   
  
"Sam?" Frodo looked down at his dear companion with concern. Sam didn't seem to hear him. Could he be asleep? Frodo knelt down and looked more closely. With great alarm, he saw the Sam's face had become very pale, his eyes sunken and shadowed. Frodo reached out his hand and felt Sam's burning forehead. Frodo sprang to his feet and ran to find Aragorn. If anyone could help Sam, it would be the Ranger. He found Aragorn walking back from the higher ground. "Aragorn!" cried Frodo desperately, "You must come at once! Something is wrong with Sam!'   
  
Aragorn looked down at Frodo in surprise. "Where is he?" he asked shortly. Frodo led him to where Sam was lying, unmoving, among the rocks. The others, sensing something was amiss, followed close behind. Aragorn looked closely at the unconscious hobbit. He gently touched Sam's burning head. Frowning, he noticed a growing stain on the front of Sam's cloak. Aragorn gently pulled it open and softly gasped when he discovered Sam's blood-soaked shirt.   
  
"Oh, Sam!" whispered Frodo, his eyes wide with alarm. "What has happened to him!?"  
  
"Legolas, please give me some wet cloths" commanded Aragorn. With these, Aragorn deftly cleaned away the blood, discovering the ugly, jagged wound near the center of Sam's chest. Aragorn cursed under his breath. It was obvious what had happened. Somewhere in Moria, Sam had been wounded. All this time he had kept it secret, and now it might be too late to save him.  
  
"Why does it keep bleeding?" asked Pippin, his face white. He had watched intently as Aragorn repeatedly pressed compresses against the oozing wound, to no avail.  
  
Boromir shook his head sadly. "Orcs often poison their blades and arrows," he replied heavily, "One effect of this vile poison is to keep the blood from clotting. If the poison does not kill you, then you are just as likely to bleed to death."   
  
"No, Sam!" cried Frodo, tears coursing down his face. "He shouldn't even be here! He should be safe at home in the Shire! This is all my fault!" Frodo buried his face in his hands, guilt overwhelming him.  
  
Boromir placed a hand on the grieving hobbit's shoulder. "Do not blame yourself for this, Little One," he said gently. "I do not believe Sam would have allowed you leave him behind; he is that devoted to you. This is Sauron's doing, not yours."  
  
Frodo turned and gave Boromir a brief, but grateful smile. He knew what Boromir said was true, but it hurt him so to see his dear friend suffering . He watched anxiously as Aragorn bathed the wound and applied a poultice of athelas leaves hoping it would help slow the course of the poison and stop the bleeding. Aragorn carefully bandaged the wound, although in short time, blood was already seeping through. He sighed in frustration. He knew that if they couldn't stop the bleeding, Sam would never make it to Lothlorien.   
Sam was already somewhere else. He certainly didn't recognize this place. It looked something like the shire, but somehow brighter and more peaceful. There didn't seem to be anyone about and the place was oddly quiet. He was standing on a pathway that appeared to wind between low, grassy hills set against a brilliant blue sky. Brightly colored flowers lined the path and were sprinkled across the landscape. A slight breeze ruffled his curly hair. "This is right strange!" thought Sam to himself as he gazed about. "I seem to remember we were walkin' through some mountains, not these meadows! And where might Mister Frodo and the others be? Surely they wouldn't have left me?" He looked around anxiously, hoping to find some sign of his companions. Perhaps they had gone further on? He turned and started to walk down the path. He felt oddly reluctant to break the silence of this strange but tranquil place.. As he walked, he began to feel a sense of peace and contentment. This wouldn't be such a bad place to stay, now would it? The flowers were beautiful, the air was clean and fresh, and the sun warm. There were no orcs or Black Riders to be seen. He felt unusually relaxed. Lost in his thoughts, Sam didn't notice he was approaching a small figure lounging beneath a large oak tree, smoking on a curved pipe.   
  
"Hullo there, Samwise m'lad!" the figure called out. Sam stopped in his tracks and turned to the caller. His eyes widened in amazement.  
  
"Grandad!?" he breathed in shock. His grandfather, Hobson, had died many years ago when Sam was a small child.  
  
"Yes! T'is me, m'boy!" the elderly hobbit smiled. He looked like a wizened apple – he had brown, rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. A froth of white curls covered his round head. When he smiled, his entire face joined in. "I've been waitin' fer ye, Samwise," he said quietly as he puffed on his pipe, "It's about time ye got 'ere!"  
  
Sam frowned. "Here?" he repeated in confusion, "Where exactly is here?"  
  
His grandfather smiled again and got to his feet, brushing grass off his breeches. "Why, yer time has come, lad. This is where all good hobbits go when they pass on! We knew ye were comin', so I was sent t'meet ye and bring ye along!" With that, he laid his hand on his grandson's shoulder as if to guide him farther along the path. Sam pulled away in alarm, staring at his grandfather.  
  
"No!" he cried out backing farther away, "No! I can't go now! Mister Frodo needs me! He has a long way t'go yet, an I promised I wouldn't leave 'im! Not while the task remains unfinished! I must go back! Please! Don't ye see how important this is! All o' Middle Earth could be destroyed by the Dark Lord if Frodo doesn't destroy that ring! If I'm not there t'help 'im, I know he won't make it. Please let me go back before it's too late!" Sam was desperate. He knew he couldn't leave his master to go onto Mordor alone. Oh, maybe the others would be there, but they wouldn't be there for Frodo. Sam knew he was the only one who could possibly provide the love and support that Frodo would need to complete his awful task. Sam stared pleadingly at his grandfather, trying to make him understand.  
  
Grandad studied Sam's desperate face. Sam watched anxiously as the old hobbit closed his eyes and stood very still, as if listening to something far away. Finally, Granddad's eyes slid open and turned to Sam. "Alright Samwise, lad" he began slowly, "Ye'll get yer wish. Ye can go back and help yer Mister Frodo finish his task, but once the task is over, if all goes well, ye won't be returnin' to the Shire, if ye get my meanin'"  
  
Sam understood perfectly. He would be given the chance to help Frodo destroy the Ring, but he wouldn't survive to return to the Shire. He felt a wave of sadness at knowing he would leave Frodo in the end, but the important thing was he would be there to help him.  
  
Grandad was speaking again, "Ye'll go back now, but ye won't remember any of this in yer mind, just yer heart." He smiled his warm, comforting smile and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, "It won't be easy when ye return, Samwise, lad, ye might wish ye had just stayed 'ere with yer old grand-dad, but yer friends will glad to see ye again! Just know that I'll be awaitin' 'ere fer ye when ye come back! Good luck to ye, m'lad!"  
  
With that, the lovely hills and flowers began to dissolve, darkness filled Sam's eyes and mind, but far away, he could hear his grandfather's words echoing in his heart. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 5  
  
"I think the bleeding has stopped," breathed Aragon with much relief.. The Ranger had been tending the injured hobbit for several hours and was beginning to feel more and more anxious about the long delay. It would be dark before long and the orcs would come with it. Sam had continued to lose blood and his fever raged on as his small body fought the destructive powers of the orc poison. Frodo sat by Sam's side. He had not moved since they had carried Sam's inert form to the fireside. He held Sam's hand and had repeatedly urged to him to hold on, to fight the poison and not give up. Frodo now looked up at Aragorn's weary face.  
  
"Will he be alright?" he asked worriedly. The bleeding may have stopped, but Sam seemed to struggle for every breath and the fever continued unabated.  
  
Aragorn sighed, looking down at Sam's pale face. "I do not know, Frodo," he replied quietly. "Sam is made of much tougher stuff than I would have supposed. You hobbits are a constant surprise to me!" He smiled softly, "I have seen lesser wounds fell a full grown man in his prime, yet Master Gamgee continues to fight on. We should reach the forests of Lothlorien by nightfall. Hopefully there, we will find the help we need to heal Sam." He looked over at Frodo. "Unfortunately, we have not the time to tarry here any longer. We are still too near the enemy. The sooner we get to Lothlorien, the better for all of us, including Sam."   
  
Frodo looked around and saw that the others were starting to pack up camp. Boromir walked over and knelt by Sam's side, gazing sadly at the young hobbit's tormented face. "I would be honored to carry Sam on our journey," he said, glancing over at Frodo. "He has proven himself to be a brave and worthy companion. Braver than many a hardened soldier I have known."  
  
Frodo laughed softly. "Sam would be most amused by you calling him brave!" he said to the tall Man kneeling beside him. "Sam is the most humble hobbit you could ever meet! But you are right. He is very brave, whether he would agree with you or not! Thank you, Boromir, for your kind offer."   
  
Pippin and Merry appeared by Boromir's side. "How is he doing?" asked Merry, "Is he any better?"  
  
Frodo shook his head. "The bleeding seems to have stopped, but the fever is still very high and his breathing is labored. I fear the poison will take him before the Elves can help." Pippin bit his lip as he looked at his cousin's sorrowful face. He knew Frodo was very close to Sam and if Sam died, Frodo would take it exceptionally hard. He had already been badly shocked by the loss of Gandalf. Losing Sam might make Frodo lose heart altogether.   
  
"He'll be alright, Frodo!" Pippin tried to assure him. "Those Gamgees are not easily brought down! Remember when Sam's brother, Hamsted, fell out of the Party Tree? Everyone thought he was killed, but two days later, he was back stealing apples! Sam won't let a mere orc arrow stop him!"  
  
The others had finished packing up the gear and it was time to continue their journey. Boromir knelt down and gently lifted Sam's lifeless body into his arms. He looked down at Sam's ashen face, a sheen of sweat had formed and his lips were cracked and dry. He seemed to struggle for every breath he took. Boromir didn't know much about these hobbits, but he was finding himself more and more impressed by their bravery and fortitude. Sam was essentially a mystery to him. The shy hobbit tended to stay in Frodo's shadow much of the time, although he had shown himself to be quite fierce if he felt Frodo was being threatened. Boromir couldn't recall ever having an actual conversation with Sam. The other hobbits were much more outgoing, even the beleaguered Ring Bearer. Sighing, he adjusted the injured hobbit in his arms and began to follow the others down the path towards Lothlorien.  
  
********************************  
  
Sam could hear singing. "Like the voices of angels." He thought to himself. He felt very warm and comfortable. He sighed and snuggled further into the soft blankets covering him. "It must have all been a dream," he said softly. A gentle laugh, like the song of a dove brought Sam to full wakefulness. He opened his eyes and found himself staring up into what appeared to be a silver and gold branches of an enormous tree. He frowned in confusion and tried to sit up. Gentle hands firmly pushed him back onto the pillows. Sam turned and found himself staring into the deep blue eyes of a tall Elf woman. She smiled at the confused Hobbit as she tenderly wiped his brow.  
  
"Do not stir yourself, Master Gamgee," she said quietly, "You are safe in the lands of the Lady of the Wood. Your companions brought you to us gravely injured. We have tended your hurts for many days, but we are pleased to see that you are recovering nicely."  
  
Sam relaxed into the cushions. He must be in Lothlorien! He had heard about this wondrous place from Legolas during the many long days spent in the dark mines of Moria. It had sounded glorious and Sam had eagerly looked forward to coming. He looked back at the Elf, a worried expression forming on his haggard features. Again he tried to sit up. "Mr. Frodo!" he cried urgently, "Is Mr. Frodo alright!?"  
  
"Yes! Yes, he is fine!" she soothed him. "He has spent most of his time here, beside you. He has been most fearful for your recovery!" She smiled again, remembering the devotion the Ring Bearer had shown towards his injured friend. The healers had finally sent him away this morning for rest and nourishment, when it became apparent that Sam would recover. The Elf called behind her to another elf nearby. Soon, a nourishing broth was delivered and the Elf helped Sam eat. He blushed as she offered him his first spoonful.  
  
"You shouldn't be feeding me, my Lady," he mumbled in embarrassment. "It ain't proper!"  
  
She laughed again. Sam ducked his head. "Master Gamgee," chided the Elf gently, "You are an honored guest of the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. As such, it is more than "proper" for you to be cared for by the healers of Caras Galadon. It is also very clear, that you are in no condition to care for yourself at present. If you do not allow me to assist you, you will not get stronger and then will be forced to suffer my ministrations for some time to come!" Sam lifted his head, his eyes troubled, his face red. It just didn't feel right to him that others should care for him in this way. He was so used to tending to the needs of others that he often neglected his own. However, he saw the wisdom in the Healer's words and grudging allowed her to feed him as she would a baby. It didn't take long before he felt full and quickly drifted back to sleep.  
  
Sam recovered quickly in the golden land of Lothlorien. Frodo visited him frequently, much relieved at his faithful servant's improving health. "Next time you are injured, Samwise Gamgee," said Frodo in exasperation, "Do not keep go keeping it hidden, hoping it will just go away! I almost lost you, Sam, and I cannot bear even the mere thought of that! What would the Gaffer say if I let something happen to you!?"  
  
Sam was acutely discomfited by Frodo's wrath. He certainly hadn't meant to be such a bother. It seemed like there were much more important things going on at the time. Sam hung his head, guilt rising up within him. "I…I am sorry Mister Frodo," he mumbled, "I didn't mean to upset you. I'll be more careful."  
  
Frodo paused, smiling fondly at his dear friend. "Sam," he said gently, "Don't you know you mean the world to me? You are my anchor. I would be lost if anything happened to you." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and with another smile, went out to join the others. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
The great eagles flew down to retrieve the small bodies almost completely obscured by the swirling dust and noxious gases. Gandalf watched desperately as first one eagle, then another lifted the lifeless bodies from the ravaged slopes of Mt. Doom. "Please let them be alive!" he thought to himself, although he wondered how anyone could survive such destruction.  
  
The eagles flew to the encampment where the armies of Men were gathered. "Eagles!" cried Legolas peering up into the distant sky. "Three of them!" Aragorn looked up into the sky and within moments, he too saw the mighty birds swoop down towards the open fields behind the camp, far from the chaos of the battle. Aragorn turned, gave some orders to his commanders and flew from the field towards where the eagles had landed. He knew that if Frodo and Sam were still alive, they would need more than a simple Healer's care to recover. As he approached he saw the Healers carrying the small limp bodies into a nearby tent. He burst in moments later, followed by Gandalf.  
  
"They still live, my Lord" reported one of the Healers grimly, "But just barely." Aragorn knelt by the first cot. He looked at the ravaged, care-worn face. It took him a moment to realize that under all the dust and blood, it was Frodo. Aragorn turned to the first Healer.  
  
"Get as much of the aethelas plant as you can and make an infusion. Just breathing it will help." The Healer nodded and hurried away. Aragorn put his hands on Frodo, searching for any sign of life. Frodo's cheeks were as white as chalk and barely could any breath be discerned. For many minutes Aragorn knelt there, unmoving. The effort he made searching the pathways of Frodo's mind and heart for the strength of Frodo's spirit was exhausting. "Come back to us, Frodo" he urged, "Please do not leave us yet!" The others stood around watching anxiously. Finally, with an exhausted sigh, Aragorn sat back. "He is still alive, but I do not know if he will return to us. The journey has broken much inside him and I do not know if he will ever recover." He gently stroked the fragile Hobbit's hair, a deep sadness in his eyes. Aragon thought much of this brave little creature and it hurt him more than he realized to think Frodo might not survive.  
  
Aragorn got wearily to his feet and went now to Sam's cot. Sam looked as lifeless as Frodo. Aragorn hoped he had enough strength to help Sam back across the threshold. As with Frodo, the King placed his hands on either side of Sam's bloodied head and summoned as much healing power as he possessed. Many long minutes passed before he again leaned back, his face grey with exhaustion. He opened his eyes and looked down at Sam. How thin he was now, thought Aragorn. He looked nothing like the sturdy Hobbit Strider had first met in Bree. Sam's eyes were sunken in his gaunt face and there were lines of worry that had not been there before. The journey had not been easy for either of the Hobbits. Aragorn stood up. "I will tend these Hobbits personally," he told the Healers, "But someone must be with them at all times and do not separate them. I have put them both into a healing sleep, but they are hanging on to life by the merest of threads, especially Frodo." He looked down again at Frodo's skeletal features. He truly feared for Frodo's life.   
  
"I will stay with them for now," suggested Gandalf. "My services are not needed at present at the battle. Aragorn nodded absently, gazing at the two wraith-like figures before him. He turned to the Healer. "We must wash off the filth of Mordor. Their lungs have been sorely damaged by the deadly fumes and ash from Mt. Doom. The dust that covers them is saturated with these poisons and will make them worse." The Healer nodded and sent some of his assistants to bring basins of warmed water to bathe the filthy hobbits. Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "I must return to the battlefield," he said reluctantly, "But I will return as soon as I am able. I hate to leave them, but there is nothing else I can do for them now."  
  
Gandalf nodded. "You have brought them back from the threshold of death. Now we will see which way they will choose. I feel the Quest has taken more from both of them than even I had feared. We must wait."  
  
Shortly after Aragorn departed, the Healers returned with the water and gently bathed the lifeless hobbits. One healer looked sadly into Frodo's pale, porcelain-like face. "Do you think he will live?" he asked the Wizard quietly. "I know nothing of these small creatures and do not know if they are strong or weak. This one looks as if he has carried the cares of all Middle Earth on his shoulders. He seems so frail."  
  
Gandalf smiled gently. "He is stronger than you think. He has survived many hardships and I pray that this last will not be the end of him. I hope Aragorn has awakened his will to live." The Healer nodded slowly and quietly left the room.  
  
Aragorn came frequently to the Healer's tent. Many times he despaired of the hobbits' survival. Frodo's heartbeat was as weak and as rapid as a small bird's. It seemed that barely a hint of breath could be found. The Healer's were captured by his fragile beauty. Frodo never moved and they took turns sitting by his side. Sam seemed to be doing somewhat better. His color was more natural than when he had first arrived and although he too lay still as death, his breathing and heart were stronger. The Healer's instinctively felt that this hobbit was hardier than his companion and would survive. But, appearances can be deceiving.  
  
Talyn, one of the Healers who had been tending the Ring Bearers came in one morning to begin his duties. He walked silently over to Frodo's cot and was delighted to see that the feeble hobbit actually looked improved. There was the faintest hint of a blush upon Frodo's gaunt cheeks and for the first time, his breathing appeared almost normal. "Master Ring Bearer," smiled the young man as he tenderly pushed Frodo's curls from his face, "I begin to understand what Gandalf means about your strength. I think you have decided to remain with us awhile longer. The King will be very pleased!" Still smiling, Talyn glanced over at the other small figure in the adjoining cot. He stared intently for a moment, his smile replaced by a worried frown. The Healer walked around Frodo's cot and looked more closely at the other hobbit. Sam's face was bathed in sweat and his breathing was harsh and shallow. Talyn wondered that he had not noticed it when he first entered. He gently placed his hand upon Sam's brow, his eyes widening in alarm at the heat he felt there. Talyn removed his hand and hurried into the adjacent room. "Who was with the hobbits last night?" he asked quickly. One of the other Healers, an older woman with a round, kindly face turned to Talyn and replied that she had been the one.  
  
"Did you notice any fever or breathing difficulties in Master Samwise?" he asked urgently.   
  
"No," she replied without hesitation, "I last checked the halflings just before dawn and both were as usual. There was no change." This concerned Talyn even more. This fever had come upon Sam rapidly and did not bode well.   
  
He quickly went to the doorway of the tent and called for one of the page boys standing near. "Quickly, now" Talyn said to the boy, "I need you to run to the King and inform him that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse. I think he should come as soon as he is able. Neither is strong enough to fight off an additional infection for long!" The boy nodded and hurried away towards the King's tent.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
"My Lord," a guard was standing hesitantly in the doorway of Aragorn's tent. Aragorn and Gandalf had been going over some maps. Aragorn looked up at the guard's entrance.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
The guard glanced back behind him then replied, "A page has been sent by the Healers with a message for you, my Lord." He motioned the boy forward, into the room.  
  
Aragorn looked up sharply, his eyes meeting those of Gandalf. Frodo. They both turned to the boy and Aragorn signaled him to begin.  
  
"My Lord!" panted the boy, "My master bid me tell you that one of the Halflings has taken a turn for the worse and asks that you come as quickly as possible."  
  
Without hesitation, Aragorn sprung to his feet and strode out of the tent towards that of the Healers, Gandalf followed close behind. "I was afraid this would happen," muttered Aragorn to the wizard. "Frodo is so weak and broken that any illness will be the end of him. He just does not have the strength to fight any more!" The two arrived quickly and Aragorn pushed his way into the hobbits' room. However, he stopped in surprise when instead of finding the Healers grouped around Frodo's cot; they were hovering around Sam's. Aragorn's eyes flew to Frodo and was relieved to see that the young hobbit was breathing better and had some color. He then turned his attention to Sam, brave, faithful Sam. The King laid his hand on Sam's head, alarmed at the intensity of the fever. The Healers had been attempting to lower his fever with cool, damp cloths but it remained unabated. Sam's ragged breath led Aragorn to suspect that Sam's injured lungs had become infected by the poisons that still remained in his body. Aragorn looked up at Gandalf and saw the worry etched in the old Wizard's face. He looked back down at Sam, and laid his hands on the hobbit's feverish brow. He closed his eyes and went into his healing trance, looking to strengthen Sam's waning spark of life.  
  
He searched long and hard for Sam's spirit, and when he found it, it was if he were suddenly transported out of the dusty Healer's tent on the edge of a bloody battlefield, to the quiet lands of the Shire. He stood on a sunny path, trees rustled overhead, and a light breeze, fragrant with the smell of roses gently caressed him. He looked around in amazement, but turned, startled, at the sound of a voice behind him.  
  
"Hullo, Strider. I've been waiting for you." Beneath a tall elm tree sat Sam, his long clay pipe held in his hand. This was not the frail, wasted Sam that Aragorn had just seen lying lifeless in the Healer's tent, but the healthy, sturdy hobbit that he had met at the Prancing Pony so very long ago.  
  
"Sam!" breathed Aragorn, "Sam, is that you?" Sam smiled again, rising to his feet.  
  
"I knew you would come," he replied softly, gazing at the tall Man, "I've been waiting to have a word with you before I left."   
  
Aragorn continued to stare at him open-mouthed, then regained his senses. "Going? Oh, Sam, don't go." Aragorn feared the implication of Sam's words. "Frodo will be lost without you and he will need all the help we can give him. He will be broken hearted if he loses you!"  
  
Sam's eyes dropped to his pipe. He absently turned it over in his hands. "I know, Strider," he replied in a low voice. He lifted his face and Aragorn's heart broke at the grief and sadness he saw there. "I was never meant to go on." continued Sam, in the same low, mournful tone. "I was supposed have died at Moria. I begged to come back so I could help Mister Frodo complete his task." He stopped a moment, his gaze shifting out across the flower-filled meadow. "I wish I had done better by Mr. Frodo." Tears had started to slowly form in his anguished eyes.  
  
"Sam," said Strider, shaking his head in disbelief, "You did more than any of us could have ever hoped to achieve. You got Frodo through Mordor, to the very fires of Mt. Doom. He is still alive today, and I believe he will recover! You are a hero!"  
  
Sam turned on Aragorn angrily, "I am NOT a hero!" he snapped, "I did nothing! I abandoned Frodo when he needed me most! I left him at the mercy of those orcs! And when I did get him back, he was suffering so much, that I knew I would lose him forever to that evil Ring! I didn't save anything! Even now, when he needs me more than ever, I'm leaving him!" Sam sat back on the ground, his face buried in his hands as deep, heart-wrenching sobs shook his small body. "I have no choice." He whispered. Aragorn stood in shock, unsure of what to do in this unusual situation.   
  
Eventually, the sobs subsided and Sam raised his tear-streaked face. "I was meant to die at Moria," he repeated softly, "I was told I could stay till Mr. Frodo had finished his task. He's done that and as you say, it looks like he'll be well again, maybe not soon, but someday. He'll never be whole, though" his face darkened, "The Ring saw to that."   
  
Aragorn sat down next to Sam and tenderly placed his arm around the hobbit's shoulders. "Sam, you have been of more help to Frodo than the rest of us combined. We all had our parts to play in this Quest and you played yours as well as anyone possibly could. If you had not been there to help Frodo, he could never have completed his task. I also believe that because of your love and devotion, the Ring was never able to completely consume Frodo. You saved him from that as well."  
  
Sam sat quietly for a moment, thinking of Aragorn's words. "Thank you, Strider." He said finally, "I love Mister Frodo with all my heart. It grieves me beyond words to leave him like this. I didn't want to leave him without saying good-bye." He looked up into Aragorn's careworn face. "Will you tell him good-bye for me, Strider?" whispered Sam, "Tell him how sorry I am for not being able to stay and be there for him? I just wish…" He stopped, tears still running down his face. His shoulders slumped in misery as he attempted to regain control.   
  
"It's all right, Sam." Aragorn comforted him. "I'll tell him." Sam smiled up at the Ranger gratefully, then he turned and looked up the road to the top of the hill. A small figure could be seen waiting patiently.   
  
"I must go now,." Said Sam reluctantly. Sam slowly got to his feet and gave his hand to Aragorn. "Thank you, Aragorn, for everything. I know you and Gandalf will look after Mister Frodo for me. And Aragon, I hope you can find someone to write a story about our adventures. What Mr. Frodo did should never be forgotten." Then, his jaw set, he turned and unhesitatingly headed up the road. He did not look back. Aragorn watched, a heavy sadness settling on his heart as he watched the brave and faithful Samwise Gamgee disappear forever over the crest of the hill.  
  
"My Lord?" Aragorn heard a voice as if from a great distance calling to him. He slowly opened his eyes and gazed down into Sam's pale face. He could feel Sam's heartbeat becoming weaker and weaker as his breath faded. Soon, neither could be detected. Aragorn's head fell as he gently removed his hands from Sam.   
  
Aragorn lifted his eyes to meet Gandalf's. "Sam is gone," said Aragorn, his voice full of heartache. "A most brave and noble hobbit has given his life in the battle against the Enemy. He shall be honored as a true hero of Middle Earth."  
  
Gandalf's head dropped, his eyes closed. "This will be a bitter pill for Frodo," he said softly, the sound of tears in his voice. "I do not know if he will be able to handle this loss." Gandalf looked up and gently caressed Sam's face. "I wondered at first, if I had made a mistake, sending Samwise Gamgee with Frodo. Other than his loyalty, I was not sure he had any abilities that would be of use on the Quest. I just knew that I did not want Frodo to go off alone. In the end, the Quest would have failed completely if not for the devotion of this most humblest of Hobbits. I will miss him."  
  
Moments later, Merry and Pippin stood at the door, looking in hesitantly. "Gandalf?" whispered Merry, "Is Frodo alright?"  
  
Aragorn stood up beside Sam's cot. "Frodo is doing better and although I think his recovery will take some long while, he should recover." He looked down at Sam. "It is with much sorrow that I cannot say the same for Samwise. We have lost him."  
  
Merry and Pippin stared at Aragorn in shock. "Sam?" repeated Pippin in confusion, "But…but, we thought he was doing better! He was so much stronger than Frodo! How can he be gone?" Tears were now streaming down the faces of both hobbits. They had known how frail Frodo was and had feared he would not survive, but Sam's death was completely unexpected. They both stood quietly by Sam's bed wondering how they would break the news to Frodo when he woke.   
  
"I believe his lungs became infected. They were badly damaged by the heat and poisonous gases from Mount Doom. He was too weak to fight it." Aragorn put his hands on the shoulders of the two Halflings. Both had recovered from their own ordeals and had visited Frodo and Sam as often as they could. Although they had seen many die during this War, somehow losing one of their own was the hardest blow of all.   
Chapter 7  
  
It was some time before Frodo finally awoke from his enchanted sleep. His eyes slowly opened to a bright sunshine glinting through the boughs of a magnificent beech tree. "Where am I?" he asked wonderingly, "Am I dead?"   
  
He heard a low, soft laugh beside him. "No, Frodo Baggins," said the voice, "You are very much alive!"   
  
Frodo turned and in amazement saw that the speaker was none other than the wizard, Gandalf! "Gandalf!" he cried joyfully, "You're alive! How can that be?"  
  
Gandalf laughed again. "Ah that is a very long story indeed and one I will tell you in due course." He looked fondly down at the small figure, "And how are you feeling, Frodo?"  
  
Frodo lay back in the bed a moment trying to decide just how he did feel. "I feel wonderful!" he said in surprise. After all the trials he and Sam had endured, he wasn't certain how he could feel so well. Abruptly, he turned to Gandalf. "Sam!" he cried, "Where is Sam? Is he all right?" He pushed himself up on his elbow, searching around the chamber for his devoted companion. When Gandalf did not answer immediately, Frodo slowly turned his eyes towards him, realization washing over him like a cold wind. "He…he did not survive?" Frodo's eyes were wide with alarm.  
  
Gandalf sighed wearily. He had been dreading this more than anything. "No, Frodo," he replied gently. "Sam did not survive. He was alive when the eagles brought you from the slopes of Mt. Doom, but he could not endure the damage done to his lungs by the fire and vile poisons of Mordor."  
  
Frodo lay back on his pillows. He felt cold and hollow. How could he go on without Sam? Sam, who had sacrificed everything for him? The only reason the quest had succeeded was because of Sam. How could they possibly understand that? He closed his eyes, feeling the tears threatening to burst free. "Why am I not dead, then?" he demanded. "Sam was so much stronger than I! I should have died, not him!"  
  
Gandalf's sorrowful eyes gazed down at the grieving hobbit. "I believe that as destructive as the Ring was to you, it actually provided some protection against the poisons of Mordor. You were damaged in different ways than Sam. I know you will never be the hobbit you were, but your body has healed as well as can be expected and you will go on."  
  
"How!?" cried Frodo in anguish, "How can I go on!? Sam was everything to me! He saved me countless times on our journey. He kept me alive and going! The quest would have failed many times over if not for him. How can I possibly go on without him?" He turned his face to the pillow and sobbed, such heart-wrenching sobs that Gandalf felt his own heart would break.   
  
Gandalf heard a small sob behind him. He turned to find Merry and Pippin, along with Aragorn standing a short distance away. Legolas and Gimli stood behind them. Pippin had his own face buried in his hands, softly sobbing. Merry, with tears on his face, gently put his arm around his cousin's shoulders. Aragorn quietly walked over to Frodo and laid a hand on his arm. Frodo's sobs slowly subsided and he slowly turned to face the others. His face lighted with joy to see his friends and kin. He wiped his tears and tried to compose himself.   
  
"It's all right, Frodo," smiled Aragorn sadly. "I was with Sam at the end. He fought hard and grieved at leaving you. He told me to tell you good-bye and that he loved you with all his heart. Your greatest gift to him is to go on living." Then, Aragorn gave a small laugh. "He also hoped that someday, someone would write a song about your adventures. He said what you did should never be forgotten."  
  
Frodo lay back on his pillows and looked up at the ceiling through his tears. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, a small smile upon his lips. "That is indeed something that would please Sam. Many times he spoke about the old stories and legends. Nothing would please him more than to be part of one himself."  
  
And so, Frodo recovered although his heart never fully healed. He sat with Aragorn and other remaining members of the Fellowship and was honored for his great achievement in destroying the Ring of Doom. Sam was also honored as a Hero of Middle Earth and a great ceremony was held upon his burial. A large monument was erected in his honor. But to Frodo's mind, there was no better memorial to the Shire's humblest hobbit than the beautiful mallorn tree from Lorien planted in place of the Party Tree in Hobbiton and the ballad sung all over the free lands of Middle Earth, "Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom": the story of Frodo and his dear and stalwart friend, Samwise the Brave. 


End file.
